BREXIT (On England) #2

In crappy towns of England
The peons are exploding,
For, from their daily reading,
Their empty- brained believing
The baron bigots scare -telling
Of foreigners invading.

‘We’ve got our country back’
They scream. So take a look;
The chain -store high streets,
Burger restaurants,
Fried chicken outlets,
Pubs to stand and shout,
From which to spill out fighting;
The country’s so inviting.

THE VIEW FROM PARLIAMENT HILL

Beneath this great lake
Lies once prestige real estate,
And if evoked with joyful coldness,
The once landed had become landless.
At night, those City towers no longer blaze wastefully.
When darkness falls, the only lights to see
Are those of buoys in warning,
Blinking and bobbing,
And channel- marking
Where it’s safe for daytime boating parties
And picture-taking touring barges
For navigating leisurely.

THE VIEW FROM PARLIAMENT HILL

Further still westward
Stand England’s symbols of Church and State;
The towers of the Minster Abbey
Wherein the nation’s monarchs were annoited
To Zadok chorals and vivat, vivat,
And, standing in propinquity,
The remnants, collapsed partially,
Of Pugin’s Parliament,
And, no longer extant,
The clock tower in arrest perpetually.
No more laws of enslavement
Or of Malthusian experiment.

THE VIEW FROM PARLIAMENT HILL

A visual history tour can be taken.
In silent dignity
The upper structures of Wren’s Panthéon
Stand in an interpretation
Of Canaletto’s transportation
Of that great cathedral
To the Venetian Canal Grand.
One can espy
The Tower Bridge structures,
And Guilliaume’s keep prison.
Panning further west, one can wonder
At the finger of the communications tower.